It barely moved.
The sun, on its descent, started above it, moved through it, and sank below it before hiding behind the trees.
The cloud remained, as though it had nowhere better to be. Like it was waiting for its friend, the wind, and they would both head out for the night.
It looked like a feather, caught in stasis. It grew more illuminated as the sun got under it, casting a red hue so that the cloud could light up, display as a stark contrast.
To fade only when the light was gone.